At this moment, some men and boys clad in the garb of the Russian peasant came racing across the fields to see what I was about, no doubt, for I had stripped off my heavy outside clothing, and was spreading it out in the sun to dry.
Upon sight of these red—cheeked children of the upper world I was so overcome with joy that for a minute or so I couldn't get a syllable across my lips, but making at great effort I cried out,—
"'Fathers! Brothers! Where am I? Speak! dear souls!"
"In north-eastern Siberia, little soul," replied the eldest of the party, "not far from the hanks of the Obi; but whence comest thou? By Saint Nicholas. I believe thou wast spit out of the spouting well! What art thou doing here alone?"
I paid no attention to the question. I was thinking of something else of more importance to me, to wit: my splendid achievement, the marvellous underground journey I had just completed, fully five hundred miles in length, passing completely under the Ural Mountains! After a short stay at the nearest village, I engaged the best guide that was to be had, and crossing the Urals by the pass in the most direct line, re-entered Russia and made haste to join the first government train on its way to St. Petersburg.
Having despatched an avant courier with letters to my beloved parents, informing them of my good health and whereabouts. I passed several weeks very pleasantly in the Russian capital, and then by easy stages set out for home.
The elder baron came as far as Riga to meet me, and brought me the best of news from Castle Trump, that my dear mother was in perfect health. and that she and every man, woman, and child in and about the castle were anxiously waiting to give me a real German welcome back home again. And here, dear friends, mit herzlichen Grüsse, Bulger and I take our leave of you.
